IN THE WEALD 
hay-fields more than other places. Most of their 
food is procured there ; a certain amount of moisture 
is necessary for their well-being, and this they find in 
the meadow-lands. 
The droning f chur' of the heave-jar comes on 
the ear ; but you must go to a fern, fir, and heather 
district to get its spinning-wheel music to perfection. 
Oaks take the lead as woodland trees here. As a 
rule, birds do not sing very often in the heat of 
summer. As a rule, I say, for want of a better form 
of expression ; for really in bird-life there are no 
rules : they are affected by matters that do not 
concern other creatures much. Birds do not, how- 
ever, sing very often in the heat of summer ; yet one 
bird is singing high up in the air above the trees. 
We are not able to see him, but we can hear his 
sweet, fleeting song. It is the wood-lark. This 
country is the wood-lark's paradise, and the little 
fellow's song rings out on the still night, and rings 
again. Then there is silence for a time. 
A shrill complaining bleat of a cry comes from 
the road in front of us. A frog is in the grip of 
some owl. The sooner it stops, the better I shall 
like it, for the bird is eating the poor thing alive. 
Owls are numerous here ; they flit about in all direc- 
tions, like the bats. These farmhouses and the out- 
